


Of New Beginnings

by boxofhatebrains



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, Not Gundam Wing: Frozen Teardrop Compliant, Post-War, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28081518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxofhatebrains/pseuds/boxofhatebrains
Summary: Styles clash, and Wufei and Duo have some heated words. (Again, I am not great at summaries) Duo POV.
Relationships: Chang Wufei & Duo Maxwell
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Of New Beginnings

"Why don't you just steal it?" he says and smirks, pleased with himself.  
  
"What?" I ask, trying to piece his words together. He didn't just say that, _did he_?  
  
Trowa hesitates while eating his salad, fork hanging above the plate for a second longer than it should have. Quatre's mouth opens slightly in disbelief before he quickly closes it and clears his throat.  
  
"I said you could just steal it," he repeats, like clarifying it to an idiot, "It was a joke. Never mind."  
  
Heero pauses eating to look up curiously, knowing something's wrong, but not understanding exactly what.  
  
"What the _hell_?" I ask, chuckling humorlessly, "What do you mean? What are you playing at, Wufei?"  
  
"Well, you said that you wanted the kind of car Quatre has and it’s obviously too expensive for you. It's a joke I've heard before…you _know_ ," he shrugs, almost smugly, "If you're on L2 and you don't have something, not to worry because you'll find some one who can steal it for you. And I heard that you stole Deathscythe, so...you know, jokes aren't very funny when you have to explain them."  
  
"I wouldn't steal Quatre's car," I point out, like **I'm** the one explaining it to an idiot.  
  
"I know, Duo," Quatre cuts in, trying to soften the situation, "It was just a joke. He didn't-"  
  
"Sorry," I say without meaning it, staring right at Wufei, "I guess that I just don't find it funny."  
  
"And here I thought that you found everything a joke," Wufei calmly retorts before taking a sip of tea.  
  
"Well, maybe it was the person who told it," I say, the sharpness barely covered, "Maybe if he was better at it because, if I recall correctly, _no one_ found it funny."  
  
His eyes find mine and we hold our gaze rigidly, uncomfortably.  
  
"Let's not get angry," Quatre's voice is soothing, but doesn't pull me out of it.  
  
"Too late, buddy," I tell him, still glaring at Wufei, and snap to Wufei, "You got something to say? You're usually pretty snarky with me, even from the time we first met, so if you've got something on your chest, now's the time."  
  
"I just don't think that it was the best choice," he admits, narrowing his eyes.  
  
"What was?" I counter.  
  
"That you piloted Deathscythe."  
  
I smile, real cold and crisp, "Oh yeah? You think there was a better pilot out there?"  
  
"Don't know now," he admits, but adds, "They never had the chance, you stole it before anyone could do anything about it."  
  
"Funny," I tilt my head and feel my anger and smile reaching critical mass, "The world didn't crash and burn because I teamed up with the rest of you _privileged_ pilots."  
  
The moment is really tense. I hear Trowa picking at the lettuce, trying to keep up the semblance, but awkwardly failing. Heero stops eating all together to watch and observe, maybe getting ready to stop us if it comes to blows. Quatre lets out a defeated sigh, as if it's his fault that he couldn't keep us playing nice.  
  
"Hey Quatre?" I ask, taking my eyes off Wufei for a second.  
  
"Yeah?" he perks up, thinking I'm changing subjects.  
  
"What fine and accomplished academy did you go to?"  
  
Confused, he begins to reply something, but I don't care about his answer since I'm trying to make a point. I interrupt, "I mean for piloting. How were you trained for piloting?"  
  
His eyes sharpen when he understands what I'm doing and obviously doesn't approve, but he still answers me, "I just got into the suit. I learned along the way."  
  
I raise my eyebrows and say as sarcastically as I can, "Oh _really_? Huh! I went there, too. What a great school! Teaches you all you need to learn, eh?"  
  
"All I'm saying," Wufei cuts in, "is that it wasn't yours to take. You shouldn't have had it. That's all. You're correct, the war wasn't lost because of you and you completed your missions like the rest of us. But it's a matter of principle."  
  
I laugh loudly at the ridiculousness of it and shake my head. I can't believe this asshole.   
  
"Well, Chang," I tell him, with a smart-ass grin seething on my lips, "All I'm saying is that you're the only one who seems to care and really what the hell does it matter? The war is over. The end. We're done. The gundams are fucking gone."  
  
I lean closer in and I can feel them all tense around me, every single damn one of my friends, "The second thing I want to say is that you're a prick. You were during the war and you are now. Why do I put up with you? Maybe it's a test of my patience, but whatever the reason, I'm **done**. You have a pathetic, miserable life and the only way you feel better is to take other people down with you. I hate that about you, so,” I pause before I artfully flick him off, "Fuck you and fuck your principle."  
  
I get up and glance at a wide-eyed Quatre, "Sorry, Quatre, I didn't mean to ruin your lunch reunion. Here's a twenty, could you pay for my lunch with it?"  
  
He wordlessly nods, limply taking the money from me, not even trying to refuse it. Then I'm out the door.  
  
If I had stayed in there, I would have lost it. I don't like getting angry. I know I don't do the smartest things when I'm pissed, so it's best to walk away.  
  
So, I walk around, around the city, just looking at things and clearing my head.  
  
I wouldn't have been so ticked if I knew he didn't mean it, if it really _was_ just a stupid joke. Yeah, I've heard that joke before, who hasn't? But he doesn't have to be so conceited and self-righteous about it. I didn't tease him about how he could explode since his whole goddamn colony blew up. I didn't tell him that everyone was waiting for him in Hell. I didn't rub in the Mariemaia/Barton bullshit, especially since I probably don't even know the half of it.

There are some things that you just can't joke about. If he was a friend - if it was Heero, I could understand and just say, "You social dork! You shouldn't say shit like that."  
  
But he's not a friend, he's a dick. Better off gone and out of my life.  
  
When I head back to my car, it's getting late; my quick walk lasted three hours. Almost time for dinner.  
  
To my surprise, Wufei's waiting by my car. _What the fuck..._  
  
As I come up, I guess I must have a killer’s expression because he explains quickly, "I'm not looking for a fight. I want to talk."  
  
"Look," I sternly tell him, "We're not meant to be friends. We don't get along. You hate me. That's fine, whatever, I don't care because I don't give a fuck about you. So, you're free to walk away if you're feeling guilty-"  
  
"I'm trying to apologize," he mutters, embarrassed, "I had a lapse of judgment and shouldn't have said that."  
  
That's unexpected.  
  
After I thaw from the shock, I ask, "Why? Why would you say that?"  
  
He gets it; I'm seeing if it's just bullshit, just to keep the peace or whatever. I want to know if he’s really figured anything out.  
  
"It shouldn’t matter how you got the suit,” he explains, “You did your job; it didn't matter how you got there, you are a good pilot."  
  
"Yeah, I am, but all I'm hearing is what Quatre told you to say."  
  
"I'm not good at this," he sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets, "I don't know what to say. I just know...They convinced me."  
  
"Of what?" I ask, incredulous, "Being a good pilot? Fuck you, Chang, you should know that."  
  
"No, no, not that," he shakes his head and contemplates his words carefully, "You didn't steal it. You're not like that. That's what they told me...And that’s not what convinced me to apologize. I was just listening to each one of them chide me in their different ways, and I realized that they all know you very well. I began to understand that I don't know who you are at all."  
  
"Could have told you that," I reply, real catty, but instead of getting irritated, he looks even more ashamed.  
  
"I don't know if we could be friends," he confesses honestly and I respect that, "We aren't alike at all. And I don’t know if you can appreciate this fact, but when I was young, I was forbidden to socialize with people under my caste, people that weren't deemed suitable enough. So when I met you and learned where you were from, I just ignored you."  
  
He pauses, then looks away when he says, "I'm trying to say...What I mean...I'll be direct. I don't know if I'll like you, but I'd like to get to know you, at least. We fought together once and I don't take that lightly. I want to know the man that I fought with. And if it doesn't work out, at least we tried."  
  
Meeting my eyes, he says, stronger and more assured, "Let's start over?"  
  
He's so formal and tightly wound. I'm not sure if we can be friends, either (he's such a pain in the ass), but...I guess I'm willing to try.  
  
I put my hand out and offer a general, but cordial smile, "Deal."  
  
He accepts both, with a tense smile of his own.

**Author's Note:**

> ....I like this one :)


End file.
